𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒 , ᶠⁱⁿⁿ ˢʰᵉˡᵇʸ

13

CHAPTER 13

Tilly groaned as John dragged her along by her shirt. "John, i don't understand why I have to do this!" She exclaimed, trying to keep up with him. "Cause you can write, Finn can't." He huffed, pushing the door to the Garrison open.

He nodded toward the chair that sat outside the snug. She sighed and sat, crossing her arms.

"All you need to do is write down names and addresses, stop complaining," He flicked her head, leaving her with Finn. Tilly bit her lip, frustrated, taking the pen.

"This is fucking ridiculous," she said quietly, watching men walk in and out of the snug, some giving her an name and address, some walking out without saying a word.

Some time passed and she tiredly sat in her chair, yawning. Finn stood beside her small table, his arms crossed, keeping an eye on the men in front of them.

"Right, next." She called out, sitting up straight. Nobody moved. "Are you deaf? Come on, who's next?" Tilly asked, sitting at her chair, pen in hand.

"Go on," one of them said to a younger boy who sheepishly held his hat, walking into the snug.

Tommy looked up as he closed the door. "All right then, name?" Arthur asked bluntly, placing down his newspaper.

"The Digbeth Kid."

"The dig.." Arthur looked at John who stifled a laugh, blowing out smoke. "What are you, a boxer?" he questioned.

"Digbeth Kid, like Billy the kid."

John and Arthur looked down, chuckling. "Spend a lot of time at the pictures, eh?" Tommy asked, waiting for a reply. All he got was a slight nod. "Cowboy pictures? Tom mix? Yeah?"

The boy pulled back his jacket, revealing a gun inside the holster and both Arthur and John pulled a gun. "What are you doing?"

"Wait, wait..it's not a real gun."

"Let's have a look then eh," Tommy sighed, standing up and taking a closer look.

"It's made of wood."

Tommy chuckled, taking it in his hands and jokingly pointing it at Arthur, "Bang," Arthur reciprocated the action and Tommy pointed it at John, "Bang. Very nice, where'd you get the gun belt?"

"My sister made it out of an old blacksmiths apron. My mum did most the stitching. She's not my real mum but.."

"But she does what mothers do," Tommy cut him off. "So she made you a gun belt."

"All right, there, mothers boy," Arthur mocked, "there's the door, on you go. We're looking-" Tommy raised a hand to stop him talking. "You ever been arrested?"

"Yeah,"

"Yeah?" Tommy questioned.

The boy slowly shook his head, "no," he admired.

"Good. You're the first bloke in here today with no criminal record. Arthur, we can stand him up. You know what that means? The new home secretary wants something done, about illegal gambling."

"Damn right," John chimes in, hitting the table.

"About bloody time."

"We help our coppers make their quote of convictions by having men stood up to be arrested. First offence, you'll get a week inside. We'll give you five quid for your trouble. How does that sound cowboy?"

The boy grinned, nodding. "Yeah,"

"Good. Write your address down for Matilda on the way out." Tommy picked the paper up again.